


There's a First Time for Everything

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:32:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England sleeps over at America's house but there's only one bed. England doesn't mind until he discovers America still kept his old habit of talking in his sleep. Some mild discomfort ensues, but in the end they decide the best thing to do is resolve the sexual tension they've both been feeling for a while now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's a First Time for Everything

America settled into the bed with ease, drifting almost instantly to sleep. Well it’s no wonder, England thought bitterly, with all that damn junk food he eats he must come down from it at some point.

And come down he did, into a peaceful slumber, interrupted only by a slowly forming dream England tried to decipher as it unfolded. America’s facial expressions told stories of their own, and his dreams seemed no exception. He could be read like a book, not even mentioning the fact that he talked in his sleep.

“It seems like just yesterday you were a little child, helpless and immature,” England whispered to the still figure. He snorted a little. “Not much has changed there, although...I’d hardly call you helpless.” He had to admit, the younger country had grown strong. Although it had broken his heart to watch America declare his independence from him once and for all, England understood that it was something a lot of countries went through. He wasn’t the first nation to lose his colony to independence, and he wouldn’t be the last.

America groaned a little in his sleep, shifting slightly. England examined the younger nation’s face, attempting to understand the low murmurs America uttered.

A soft hum found its way out of America’s throat, followed by an almost incoherent whisper: “Sssslow down, I don’t...don’t want to get hurt.”

England froze.

“Eng...laaaaaand...” The older nation shuddered at the sound of his own name, drawn out as if America’s life depended on it.

His heart rate had quickened now, and he was more than a little curious about just what was going on in his former colony’s head. He bit his lip and nudged America, not intending to wake him up, but to test how deeply he slept.

America didn’t move, but another small hum escaped his lips. He was warm, England noted. Comfortably warm, enough to keep England from freezing in his sleep, but not to cause discomfort. It was...relaxing, in a way.

England sighed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He couldn’t bring himself to be tired even if he wanted to. Something about being away from home always kept him awake. There was no way to explain it, but he could never fall asleep in a house other than his own. Especially not right next to such an...attractive young nation.

Ugh, what was he thinking? That was plain creepy. England chastised himself for even beginning to think that way about the country he’d raised from such a young age.

Yet...he supposed it could be worse. America was, after all, a fully formed nation now. Full grown. He wasn’t young anymore. Hell, he had almost caught up to England, it seemed. He was how old, nineteen to the humans? Yes, something like that.

He sighed. Well, with the noise America was making there was no chance of sleep now.

England stopped suddenly. When did America start making such a racket over there? It seemed like just a minute ago his talking had been at least a bit more...subdued.

He glanced over at the dirty-blond-haired figure next to him, gasping sharply as he heard his own name again, this time impossible to misinterpret. America was dreaming about...him. 

“P-please,” America stammered without waking, speaking almost completely clearly now. England didn’t really want America waking up to find he’d ruined his sheets with somebody else over, especially not that particular somebody else, so he braced himself and shook America roughly.

“America, wake up! I can’t bloody sleep with you talking and whining like that!” England gave his best effort to preserve America’s dignity and pretend he’d heard nothing suspicious but he found it to be more challenging than he’d hoped.

America, meanwhile, sat bolt upright, drenched in sweat, and extremely red in the face.

“E-England!” he cried nervously, obviously not expecting to be woken. “I-I can explain...It’s not like th-”

“America.” England’s tone was flat. “Calm down, okay?”

“I...I forgot I talk in my sleep. I guess I thought I grew out of that.” America paused. “How much did you...”

“I heard enough.”

America sighed. “I’m sorry, if I had known-”

“No, it’s...it’s fine.” England swallowed. “Was this just a random occurrence, or...do you...”

“I guess I should have figured I’d have to say something.” He shifted uncomfortably. “England, for...for a few months now I’ve been...thinking about you differently. At first I didn’t really know what it meant, but then I kinda...realized...I think I like you.”

England had suspected it at this point, as any sane person would, but to hear America say it sent shivers up his spine. He had no idea what to say. So instinct took over and before he could filter himself, he blurted out, “I like you too!”

“R-really?” America stammered.

It was England’s turn to flush several shades of red. “It’s...complicated how this came about, but it’s something I’ve felt for a while now. I just wasn’t sure how to...tell you. You’d probably think I’m some kind of creep. Oh, you probably do now!”

America’s expression softened. “Yeah, I mean you kind of adopted me as your brother and you were an adult when I was barely walking,” he began, taking a moment to realize he wasn’t helping. He shook his head. “The point is, that’s not...it’s not that anymore. I’m all grown up, as much as I know you hate to admit it.”

“Hey America.” England’s face had taken on a new emotion, a bit of deviousness visible in his eyes. “You said you aren’t sure, right? Well, neither am I. But I think I know how we could be sure.”

“Oh?” America could clearly see where this was going, but he played along. “Why don’t you come show me this idea?” He laid back on the bed, clad only in those stupid stars-and-stripes boxers he slept in.

“I hate those pants of yours. So tacky.”

“Then why don’t you take them off?”

England’s heart skipped a beat, and he swallowed. So this really was happening. He was really going to get what he had fantasized about for months, what he chastised himself for dreaming of nearly every night. It was all really about to happen. And here America was, laying back before him, completely ready for it.

England leaned forward, in his own bedclothes: a white T-shirt and flannel pajama pants. He kneeled between America’s legs, placing a hand on either side of America’s head. Slowly, he trailed a finger down America’s chest, watching the younger nation shudder at his cold touch. When his hand reached the dirty-blond’s waist, he hooked a thumb under America’s boxers, tugging at them once before dragging them off with painstaking care. America was squirming now, desperate for some kind of physical contact, some sort of friction.

Once the stars-and-stripes had reached America’s knees, England moved to the side for a moment so he could pull them the rest of the way off more quickly. He tossed them to the side without looking, eyes still locked on America’s. He too was becoming impatient.

But of course, a gentleman always worries about his partner first. He hesitated a moment before leaning forward again, kissing America deeply, hands pressed to his bare chest. He noticed the boy’s breathing was irregular and heavy, keeping almost in time with his own erratic heartbeat.

“Ah-England...” America gasped as the kiss was broken and England pressed his warm lips to his neck. He nipped at the sensitive skin with his teeth, barely enough to leave a red mark as he licked over the spot like an apology.

He moaned into America’s collarbone as he ground his hips against the younger nation.

America’s hands trailed down England’s back, finding the end of his white shirt. He pulled it up a bit, exposing England’s stomach and silently asking if he was ready to undress, too.

England nodded almost unintelligibly and propped himself up for a moment as America drew the shirt up over his head, off of his arms, and tossed it to the floor next to his own boxers.

Next, England pushed his pajama pants down, knowing he would probably be blushing if his cock wasn’t hogging all the blood. After criticizing America’s boxers he’d forgotten he was wearing his own dorky Union Jack underwear. Quickly he removed that too, ignoring America’s small smirk.

“Now...” England began, his voice far smoother than his usual one. “Where were we? Right around...” He ground his own erection against America’s, leaning forward on top of him again. “Here?”

The friction felt sweet, oh, so sweet now that the barrier of England’s clothing was gone. Now it was all skin, sweat, and moans as the two ground their hips against each other, hands wandering and mouths looking for something to kiss, something to leave their mark on.

Without warning, not one minute in, America stopped and reached off to the side for something, uttering a small “Aha!” as he found it. As he pulled the small bottle into view, England realized what America had been retrieving.

“If you want to keep going, you’re gonna need some of this,” the younger nation said, handing England the bottle of lube.

England’s breath caught. Oh God, America really honestly wanted this to happen. He wasn’t sure what to make of it all. He smiled warmly, despite himself, and shifted his weight back once more to prepare the both of them.

“So, who would you prefer to-”

“England.” America’s voice was flat and absolutely doubtless. “Fuck me.”

A chill shot through his spine. He’d imagined America saying it before, but never did he expect to hear the words. Never did he expect America to be sprawled out beneath him with his naked body covered in a mix of their sweat, blue eyes sparkling and hair all a mess, asking England with that confident voice to take him, take him right now. It was almost too much for him.

He opened the bottle, pouring the slick lube onto his fingers. “Done this before?”

“Huh?”

“Bottomed. You never struck me as the type, with your dominating personality and whatnot.”

America’s face was a furious red again. “Not...Not really, no. Actually, never. Not once.”

He rambled when he was nervous. Just like when he was a kid, England noted with a smile.

Wait. Lord, that’s a creepy thing to be thinking. His smirk vanished as his ears flared up bright scarlet. America didn’t speak, but eyed him curiously.

England shook his head. “Now, you’ll have to relax. It’s going to feel...weird at first, but I’m telling you right now if you don’t relax this is going to be a hell of a lot harder than it needs to be.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” America replied, gasping a little as England pressed a cool, slick finger to his entrance. He tensed for a moment, but then forced himself to relax his muscles, laying back and taking in all the sensation as England’s index finger slipped in.

England pushed in a few times, letting America adjust to the feeling. The younger nation bit his lip as England added a second finger, but he didn’t cry out. “Hey, how are you holding up?”

America swallowed. “Well enough. You gonna move or do I have to do all the work?”

A devilish grin crossed England’s face. Without another word, he pushed his fingers in, rather roughly, fucking into America. Finally, as he found just the right  
spot, he heard a low groan from the dirty-blond nation. “How’s that?” he asked, slowing down significantly to give America a bit of time to recover from the sudden movement.

America’s only reply was to pant a little. The quick and out-of-the-blue stimulation had caught him by surprise. England noted he was handling it well for his first time.

“Just one more, then we can really get started. Do you think you can do it?” England scissored his fingers a few final times, and waited for America’s nod before sliding a third finger in next to the other two.

“So, have you ever done anything like this before, or are you completely lacking experience?” England queried, making conversation to help America relax as he was prepared.

Between short breaths as England pushed his fingers in and out, over and over, America replied, “Just...a few times. Never really...anything serious.”

When England was satisfied and decided America was properly prepared, he pulled his fingers out, to the blue-eyed man’s dismay. He rolled his eyes at America’s whine and assured him this would be much better for both of them anyway.

He poured a generous helping of lube onto his hand, pumping it along his hardened cock a few times to make sure he was slicked up enough. America watched, anticipating what was to come. He only hoped that included himself.

England climbed off the bed, standing at its foot. “You’re going to have to come a bit closer to the end of the bed. I do have to be able to reach you.”

America nodded and moved towards England eagerly. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until it escaped him in a small gasp as England pressed his tim into him.

“Ffffuck,” he muttered as he felt England fill him, moving with a painfully deliberate slowness at first. The older nation managed to keep a stoic expression for only a few seconds. He wasn’t the type to keep calm and carry on quietly, contrary to popular belief.

A forceful grunt rose from his throat with the first few thrusts, slow and deep, careful and calculated. As much as England hated over-analyzing the situation, he wanted America’s first time in this arrangement to be something special. He wanted to be remembered for making it perfect. Even if it never happened again, England would settle for that.

If England was struggling to maintain his composure, America was an outright mess. Gasping, whining, begging. It was quite a change from his usual “I’ve-got-this-under-control-because-I’m-the-hero” act. Now it was something more along the lines of “I’m-so-turned-on-right-now-please-fuck-the-hero.”

The things it did to England to see the young man entirely undone could not be described. Every high-pitched moan that left America’s lips went straight to his cock, barely even passing through his ears. Two hands held a firm grasp on England’s shoulders, encouraging him to go on, please, go on.

“F-faster,” he gasped, and England wordlessly complied.

“Ah...America...” England couldn’t help but let the cry slip from his shaking lips. America felt so fantastic, hot and tight and so damn inviting around his aching member. With every thrust a new wave of pleasure overtook England.

He shifted his position slightly, pulling America closer by his legs. The younger nation whined as this forced England to slow down almost to a stop, but his complaint didn’t last long. The blond rammed more forcefully into America, now able to push in farther than before.

America’s back arched as England’s cock struck his prostate, his mouth hanging open in a silent cry of bliss. He drew in a gasp, gripping the sheets of the bed. 

England thrust forward again, less forcefully but just as deeply, not quite striking the spot this time but coming close enough to make America writhe.

“Nnnn...do it again,” he panted.

England could have snapped back at him something along the lines of “You try doing this with such accuracy!” but he knew it would really only serve to ruin the mood. He also was fairly certain America would take him up on the offer at this point.

Leaning forward some, he pushed in again several times, hitting the right spot thrice in his attempts. America’s entire body was slick with sweat and his hair as positively a mess, and England was fairly certain he looked no different.

Something about it was just so...attractive. The two were usually so worried about keeping up their appearances for others and tried to look at least decent, but here they were showing each other what they were really like. America, without his glasses or jacket, hair uncombed and tangled, gasping and panting for more, more, please more, beneath England.

Meanwhile America looked up at England and saw his blond hair flop with every movement, flicking beads of sweat onto their bodies. His green eyes were so sharp, so bright when they were open, his teeth gritted to hold back the sweet vocalizations which America made no effort to hide.

“Ngh, America, I’m getting close,” England warned. His thrusts were growing quicker and deeper, and he was hitting America’s prostate almost every time. His attempts to bite back moans were becoming almost futile now.

With a final cry, England pushed as far into America as he could and came hard, shaking with how much his entire body tensed.

He took a few quick breaths as he came down from the high and pulled out of America. He climbed onto the bed again, motioning for the other to move back and sit up. America complied, and England settled down between his legs. England leaned down and gave America’s cock a tentative lick. The latter was sitting up leaned against the wall, shuddering at the sensation.

He nodded for England to go on. He too was nearing completion already, eager for his throbbing erection to get some attention.

And attention England gave it. A few more skillful licks up the length and suddenly his mouth was around America and oh God how does he do that with his tongue. The slick wet muscle pressed against a sensitive vein on the underside, sending chills shooting up America’s spine.

As if that wasn’t enough, England started to hum, the low noise rising from the back of his throat and vibrating against America.

It was almost too much for him. England’s tongue, the way his head bobbed skillfully along America’s length, and the humming were such powerful sensations, all at once. His hand found its way to England’s head, tangling into his messy blond hair and guiding him.

“England...” he half-moaned, half-warned.

Those intense green eyes glanced up into America’s bright blue, and with one final, hard suck America was gone. He cried out, feeling the muscles of his stomach tighten and then relax.

England dutifully swallowed as much as he could, wiping the rest off his lips. America moved forward and then leaned down onto the bed to lay down again.

England climbed on top of him, smirking sleepily. “Mmm, you don’t taste half bad,” he noted. “You should taste for yourself.”

He pressed a kiss to America’s mouth, running his tongue along his lips until the younger nation opened his jaw. England’s tongue slipped in, dragging over teeth before retreating so he could nibble on America’s lower lip.

“You make an excellent pillow,” England murmured, pulling away from the kiss.

“You’re not a bad blanket.” With that, America wrapped his strong arms around England in a protective, gentle embrace. The older nation rested his head on America’s chest, feeling every breath, every beat of his heart against his face.

“England?” America prompted in his last few moments of drowsy wakeness.

“Mm?”

“I love you.”

England’s heart nearly skipped a beat, and a grin couldn’t be stopped from spreading across his lips.

“I love you too, America.”

**Author's Note:**

> This took me ages to finish, ahaha. I've never written and completed an actual smutfic before, so feedback is very much appreciated!


End file.
